Texorida Too

Reviewing the pictures of my road trip, I realized that Texorida provides the amateur humorist with a wealth of material. It is an entire region of the country that had perfected the cray cray, the loonie toon, the fair and balanced super-bizarre world in the raw and yet is undiscovered by so many. This blogger has gone over quite a few miles of this great land of ours, Canada, and Russia, Asia, Central America, South America, Berlin New Hampshire, Northampton, Ditch Plains to name a few. Only the Third Coast churns out the weird with no effort. Without even getting out of the car to do a little B&E or trespassing or criminal mischief 1.

On our first stop in Texorida is a quaint store with a clever title. Oh My. Perhaps an homage to George Takei perhaps or a Freud slip from some naming committee perhaps a copyright infringement. Is “Oh Myyyyyyy” owned? I think that is three ‘Y’s. Myyy. Could this little shop of dripping useless items be pushing in on Takei’s little racket, soon to be visited by a Cease and Desist order? Either way, several Oh My establishments exist in Texorida apparently allowing everyone who wants to own some part of the beach dream to just go in and, “Oh My, did you see that lawn ornament that looks like a lady in her bloomers bending over and planting something, that is funny Henry, real funny.” Oh My… I want to kill myself.
Now that we are in a buying mood, we want to shop Texorida until we drop… however… it seems we have arrived too late for the sale here…. the sale on kids… kid’s something…. Should we call the cops? Is that really open?
Let’s take a break from the open road, take some time off of the byways and strange eccentric moments of roadlside America and stop at a quaint small town in order to take in what Main Street USA has to offer. Like… drug testing. Not treatment… Testing. Precision drug testing because I am sure we would all hate to have imprecise drug testing of little Billy and send him to the clink with the Big Boys unless he really smoked that joint. I do wonder who was the business next to this fine service provider. I am sure it was a fantastic establishment. Ah, all the best places in Texorida seem to have closed down before Tina and I could get reservations…
Ok, so the open road is a strange place, Main Street USA, like theater, poetry, and the Def Comedy Jam are dead, so let’s embark on a three hour tour of sorts aboard the Love Boat. One can only imagine the relationships launched aboard this craft, the dreams that came true, the adventures that actually happened, and fulfillment and life lessons learned on this fine ship… The Possum Hunter. Certainly not the place Daryl goes to blow meth up his butt… Yup…. Certainly not that place.
And then that happened….
Again on the road, let’s take a break for some milk. Who wouldn’t trust a huge cow with sunglasses to sell milk? Pink sunglasses.
We have shopped, traveled to small towns, taken boat rides, and explored the roadside, perhaps we should relax a little, if you know what I mean… unwind… if you catch my drift. You know, party with someone’s girls. Girls who for some horrible reason or set of choices sent them to work… here…. And I hope that mom and dad didn’t write that sign.
Of course there are many wonderful areas of Texorida. Long stretches of flat open land, a sky that seems to go on forever. Of course, much of the Third Coast has been coated with a pipes, stacks, condensation chambers, and other other assembled structures. What you see is also quite loud. Replacing the sound of crickets in the field (or locust or palmetto bugs or killer bees or whatever) is loud hissing like the those old tyme movies about factories. Good thing close to this fine example of American industry was a quaint restaurant serving the local fish.
The three-eyed red trout is very good here.

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